Show Your Weakness
by Gliblord
Summary: Soi Fong observed the man with the impossibly huge grin. He was a friend of Yoruichi's. One that wasn't her. He would have to perish for this sin.


**Show Your Weakness**

Soi Fong lagged behind the neat marching rows, not because the thought of Yoruichi wasting time waiting for her was bearable, which of course was preposterous, but because her joints weren't cooperating. Today she had drilled herself extra hard; in hindsight, a bit too hard. She had crushed solid granite on her forehead, kicked a volley of arrows off target, slid down a treacherous mountain slope in record-breaking time, did eight hundred and eight-three pushups afterwards, and even eaten a meal. But Soi Fong's efforts to effectively convince Her Highness to let her proctor the test instead of the newcomer she'd hinted at were all in vain if her body couldn't keep up... Yoruichi-sama would be forced to make Soi Fong beg the proctor to euthanize her! The consequences were all very vexing.

Maybe she was overreacting. The man Yoruichi-sama was bringing to the exam was probably only a punching bag or something. Yoruichi-sama would doubtless honor their unique bond and ignore some... some... he didn't even merit a maligning descriptor, such was the person that he probably was. She would upstage him and Yoruichi-sama's favor would be hers alone. Now to bite back the silly lacerations on her chest, shake the pain and overtake the shiftless bastards clogging the trail. Soi Fong would _never_ let Yoruichi-sama watch her die, especially not on her day off. Yoruichi-sama disliked being disturbed on her days off.

Like a breakneck little leaf stirred by a storm, Soi Fong blurred past the opposition, weaving and wincing and getting their first. Sure enough, when the mouth of the castle began to roll open, and the royal banners were just starting to wave, and the morning gongs practiced ringing nice and loud, she was alone. The palace-pagoda was splendorous, but not overly gaudy or abstract–just like Yoruichi-sama! Such opulence seldom failed to impress her, but she needed to confront her before the exam unfolded. Scurrying posthaste up the spiral staircase and bolting across the bridge, she kicked open the throne room doors, gathered her resolve, took in the scene, stammered, blushed, spun on her heels and stormed out.

The man. In there. With her. Where she was. Fan. Sitting. Man had a fan. Yoruichi had reached to pluck the fan from the man. And then she heard her giggle: "Thanks, Kisuke, but I can keep myself cool."

Soi Fong bit her lip, her back to the door. Her Highness' honor, tainted by a foreign agent!

How could the covert ops commander consider such a sickening substitute--All teeth, sandals, and stripes? Only she comported herself properly in her presence. Only _she_ was allowed to be near Yoruichi when she smiled (forty yards being the smile-radius she had outlined in her dreams). To face her majesty was a privilege that had to be earned, and, luckily enough, one only she was able to. The guards shouldn't have even let him talk to her in the first place, much less _fan_ her.

She vowed to kill him for this sin.

Yoruichi would praise Soi Fong for rescuing her from the bad man's evil spell. Medals would be awarded liberally. The whole exam would be written off as unecessary, and her ascendancy sealed right away. Then the castigation, nay, banishment of the others for not realizing she was in danger would surely follow. The scheme was flawless in every way– just like Yoruichi-sama!

---

Urahara's robes, bespoken red and black for the occasion, billowed like a towering omen as he poised lazily atop his narrow pillar, ready to fend all comers.

"The game is simple," he yawned. "Those among you who can kiss my feet will pass to the next round."

He counted the audience hopefuls with a frank finger, squinting darkly against the sunset. Somewhere amidst the rustle of whispering rivals Soi Fong fumed, petite arms taut and tiny temples throbbing silently.

"Right," he continued, rummaging earnestly inside his cloak. "Seeing as how there are only two hundred eighty-one prospective initiates, I see no need to rein in the festivities. You may attack all at once."

While the contenders eyed each other apprehensively, gauging each other's reactions, Soi Fong chose instead to focus the weight of her smoldering scorn on Urahara. How could the villainous old cur be so absurdly confident?

"Here we go," he said, pulling out his zanpakuto and tossing it aside.

Benihime lay free for the grabbing, disposed like so much garbage.

"To those of you who would to try to impale me on my own sword... happy birthday. Otherwise, weapons are forbidden. And those are the rules. Questions? Yes, Nakabe Koryu."

"Sens--" he began. "Wait, how do you know my name?"

"Yoruichi-san notified me a few minutes ago. Technique, origin, hairstyle, favorite color, I memorized everything there is to learn about each one of you. Lesson #1: Know thine enemy, and empathize."

The field seemed to hush with awe, but one exceedingly brash individual raised his hand irreverently, a hooded kid with the shiftiest name he'd ever heard, Fuku Tsuya. "I'm sorry, Urahara-sensei," he shouted, "but how can you expect to live faced with such overwhelming odds?"

"Do not underestimate my talents. It is you lot who are at quite the disadvantage. And I don't just mean I have the high ground," he preached. "One glaring weakness hangs heavy on your sleeves. Your teacher pioneered this exam expressly to erase that weakness. The only thing that remains to be seen is whether you're up to the challenge!"

Soi Fong, unable to withstand any more of his bilge, burst up the pillar without warning, and by the time the glint of a blade was drawn at Urahara's throat crowd had lost sight of Benihime.

"Not so smug now, are you?" she gritted out. "It's the end of the line!"

Kisuke blinked a bit. The girl was hugging his back, nimble legs wrapped around his waist. She certainly took after her master--light, flexible, ambitious, superb shunpo. Even her deathgrip rubbed him in all the right places. This chick was going places. He reminded himself to grill Yoru over where she found her lackeys. Was it too late to hope Jinta turned out as loyal? He should probably get a second girl to sweep up shop so it'd be two against one, and the headaches would finally cease. Come to think of it, Soi Fong wouldn't have made a poor addition, comely little bee that she was... Too bad she was taken.

"What are you planning to do with that?" he fancied asking, eyebrows cocked without a trace of concern. "It's not a toy."

"I-I'll kill you!," she seethed, but Benihime opted instead to shred her fingers.

Red warmth trickled down her arm, but so stunned was she by the profundity of his gaze, twin stars humbled by endless shadow, that she couldn't register it. Sappy love stories about sorry women who fell in love with weaklings at first sight were a favorite in Soul Society: Girl meets boy, boy meets girl, heartbeats skip, courtship commences, couple pumps out kids, mother fuels futile cycle of propagation, father sulks at bar. When their eyes locked, her heart didn't falter and the sun didn't explode, her breath didn't catch and lightning failed to strike. Time simply crawled as she struggled to process pleasurably painful psychic overflow. The gulf of her captive's spirit force was so immense and radiant and _positive_ that it grew impossible to tell whether she was being drowned or begging to drink from it. And that was only his reiatsu on the surface! It reduced her mind to ice, but her inner fire bubbled whiter than ever.

"Do you know why some blades don't bend, Soi Fong?" Urahara watch the clouds idle by, hands in pockets. "It's because those blades met many more blows toasting in the forge than they ever will in battle. You neglected to build spirit force with the same fervor you trained your body, and now you pay the price. My sword is tempered with the wisdom of ages, while yours has yet to come unblind."

"Shut up!" she shrieked, cheeks streaked with tears of impotence. "I hate you!"

_God, she's adorable,_ thought Urahara. _All she needs is a really good hug_. "Not that I'm especially eager to end this lovely conversation, but listen to me. The key to emerging from this thing a winner is to swallow your pride and ask me for advice. If you refuse, you fail. Did you come all this way to squander this opportunity? Or did you come to assert yourself? Answer me this!"

She wanted to rebel. She wanted to retaliate. She wanted to shatter his specter, to snap him in half, to make him go away! But the more she imagined relishing his death, the more she realized who would be most affected by it. For now it was apparent why Her Highness liked Urahara Kisuke so much. He was friendly, considerate, knowledgeable, and likely one of those guys you could always rely on.

She knelt down, placed Urahara's sword at his feet, and kissed him, knowing somewhere Yoruichi was reserving a smile for her.

"E-excellent!" he clapped, feigning amazement–to the audience the incident had been over in less than a tenth of a second. The rude fellow who had mouthed off earlier attempted to pull a Soi Fong, but all he met on the way up was a granite-hard sandal.

Tsuya's blood flowed freely onto the dust, but Urahara made sure with just enough awareness to curdle. "Lesson #2," he shouted over his screams, offending leg dangling like a coral snake: "Show your weakness to hide your strength!"

Show her weakness to hide her strength? Soi Fong mulled it over by the sidelines. Not terrible advice; in fact, it would prove instrumental in his downfall. She may have realized he wasn't a heinous disgusting subhuman, but she still ached for revenge, and by the fires of hell she got what she ached for.

---

The shop was silent but for the chirp of crickets. Two incredibly strong shinigami sat on opposite ends of a square coffeetable, clearly at a loss for what to say.

"So... waiting for Yoruichi, huh?"

His guest nodded noncommittally.

Urahara twiddled his thumbs. "Lotsa stuff she's gotta do."

"Hollows, spying, Bounto."

"Huh? Oh right, right."

A minute passed.

"Why'd she send you here again?"

"To tell you she was coming."

"Anything more specific?"

"No," she yawned, stretching just luxuriously enough.

The minute hand inched up the clockface ever so slowly. Kisuke _knew_ he should've gotten that plasma screen, but _nooo_, Tessai said we have Chinese checkers and unused watercolors for when evenings needed lightening up. Guy never appreciated the finest art of gadgetry...

"What can I do to entertain you? I'm afraid all my employees are asleep. Sometimes I have them juggle..."

"I'm quite alright," she thanked him, fixing her hair down using a nearby mirror. Kisuke's living room was so cluttered that she could be seen through another mirror, and he had to say he approved. God, Yoruichi always did this to him. Left him hanging like this. And then she had the gall to request him to _restrain_ himself. She goes off doing her own thing for a month or two (or twelve) and expects him to stay nice and bored? That was her problem–she always forgot theirs was a two-way relationship.

"Sure I can't fetch you something to drink," you fetching captain-class girl you?

"I already ate," she told him, but her sultry pose on the floor implied otherwise. At least that's how he was interpreting it.

"I'll see if I can't get a kettle running."

"Wait!" she shouted, pausing for Urahara to stop in his tracks. "We don't know when Yoruichi-sama will return and... I'm lonely."

_Ah c'mon now_ he gulped as she shivered and averted her gaze, _that's _retardedly_ hot. _It killed him how smitten Soi Fong was for her beloved senpai.

"There there, Soi Fong-taichou, she'll be back before you know it."

Soi Fong felt a pat on her head, and almost lost her cool when she heard him intone "there there." Oh how sweet it would be to just rabbit punch him and run, but that would make her the fourteen-year-old he obviously still envisioned her as. She didn't come all this way to botch her plan halfway in.

"You should keep your hair long," said his reflection, and Soi Fong knew then her ploy was working. "It accentuates your petite features."

"You really think so?"

The little girl's eyes lit up like wonders, and he rubbed her shoulders with a reassuring "I know so." She hiccupped, and Urahara melted.

"What say we get you to sleep, huh?" Urahara kicked in his bedroom door and laid her gently on the mattress.

"Where are you going...?"

"Shhhhh. I promise to wake you when Yoruichi comes. Until then try and go to sleep, okay?"

"But... but it's so quiet and I can't help but stay awake when I don't feel safe..."

"Tell you what. Mattress is big enough, why don't I snuggle in with you?" he asked in spite of himself. She was a grown woman; to think she would accept was wishful at–

"Please, sleep with me."

"If that's really what you want!" Kisuke swept aside the sheets and cuddled alongside her. Being a perv was never so easy.

"Ah... isn't this nice, lying like this, completely insulated from the worries of the outside world?"

"I'm only the beginning of your worries, Urahara Kisuke."

Soi Fong sprang on top of him, her submissiveness replaced with a sudden peremptory rage that Kisuke realized hadn't been sudden at all.

"_Sting, _Suzumebachi." Urahara felt cold steel on his throat. "As you controlled me, so I will control you."

"_Show your weakness to hide your strength_." Spirit threads held his limbs in place, tastes of how deliciously strong she'd become... and how definitely unblind. "How long have you been stalking me then?"

"Doesn't matter. I will show you how much experience I've gained." She licked her lips and shunpoed off all the buttons on his cloak. "Shall we get started?"

As she did to him every kinky, violent sex act he never steeled the courage to try, Kisuke thanked his stars he'd soundproofed the walls instead of buying that plasma screen.


End file.
